


Juno Steel and the Dubious Distraction

by hopeless_eccentric



Category: The Penumbra Podcast
Genre: Aliases, Canon Non-Binary Character, Fake Proposals, Fluff, HAPPY ENDING!!, Healthy Communication, Heists, Mild Angst with a happy ending, Nonbinary Juno Steel, Other, Proposals, Trans Peter Nureyev, buddy aurinko hold my hand challenge, check notes for content warnings, gratuitous use of fake proposals as distractions, gratuitous use of my bookshelf for alias ideas, nureyev being domestic, simp juno steel
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-06-30
Updated: 2020-07-01
Packaged: 2021-03-03 20:15:22
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 5,484
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24991396
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/hopeless_eccentric/pseuds/hopeless_eccentric
Summary: “Well,” Nureyev started. “Whenever one of us has to propose for a future heist, I suppose you could treat it as practice. No strings attached. A happy ending no matter what.”“Like that’s supposed to make me any less nervous.”“I’m just saying it could help on the day you do…” he trailed off with a knowing smirk. “Whatever it is you and Rita might have been planning.”
Relationships: Peter Nureyev/Juno Steel
Comments: 52
Kudos: 187





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Here goes nothing! This is going to update daily and is already written in its entirety, just not all edited.

Peter Nureyev never expected himself to be down on one knee, a ring in one hand, a microphone in the other, and a look of matrimonial pleading etched across his face. Juno had certainly never expected to be on the receiving end, especially not with several hundred pairs of eyes and a not insignificant number of bated breaths focused on the very same moment. 

“Andromache,” Nureyev began, voice trembling and stumbling over the syllables, a caricature of stage fright only one lady in the room would recognize as anything less than genuine. “I’ve courted you for four years now, and loved you for many more—“ 

Across the room, a shout of glee pierced the now dampened chatter. Juno didn’t have to look to know Buddy had made a particularly charming joke, sliding a million cred diamond necklace into the folds of her skirt as a soon to be fired salesman doubled over with laughter. All they had to do was make the rest of the distraction seem believable. 

“—I, personally, am of the opinion that souls are bound to one another from a point predating existence, and I cannot express enough joy that two such blessed souls found another—“

“Mistah Steel, Mistah Ransom,” came Rita’s voice on Juno’s comms. “You’ve got about five minutes until the cameras go back on. Now, I know you love each other lots and all but you gotta make it snappy this time.” 

Nureyev paused for an awkward laugh, honest to goodness blushing on command. Juno knew it was stupid. Andromache Remarque, soon to be Andromache Rey, was going to say yes regardless of what his bumbling, smitten fiancé said. Nonetheless, he couldn’t help but feel his pulse quicken at Nureyev’s words. 

It all looked so real, from the quiet desperation to the prose that sounded like it had been rehearsed a thousand times before a mirror or close friend, rushing and faltering with the ebb and flow of memory. 

That’s because it had been rehearsed a thousand times. Juno had been there, suggesting which of the cheesy lines to keep and which sounded too much like something from one of Rita’s crappy romance streams. He’d laughed himself to wheezing over suggestions he couldn’t even remember, managing to incur a late night noise complaint from Jet in the process. 

Juno had heard every moment of this speech a thousand times before, from the timed pauses and nervous giggles to the long-winded prose. Sensibly, his heart shouldn’t have been pounding, nor his palms sweating against the outermost layer of his skirts. But Nureyev’s glowing face and his clever hands, now trembling slightly around the box, were making a very good case against sense at the moment. 

“—This is all a very complicated way of asking you, Andromache Remarque, my sweet, my darling, my star sent lover: will you make me the happiest man to have ever lived?” 

Juno could barely hear the sting of “three minutes, Mistah Steel” against his eardrum over the volumes Nureyev’s teary eyes and pleading expression spoke. Realistically, it was an act. In all fairness, it was a very good one. 

After far too long gazing back into Nureyev’s face, Juno remembered he was supposed to be acting as well. 

“Yes,” he gasped, barely having to feign joy as Nureyev’s face melted into a softness Juno would not have believed possible. “I love you so much.” 

Before Juno could process what was happening, they had seemingly fallen into a tight embrace, hands fumbling to put rings on fingers and faces fumbling for a moment away from the microphone. Strong hands gripped his shoulders like letting go meant death, and for a moment, Juno almost believed it. 

Despite his better sense, Juno couldn’t help but feel an excited flutter in his stomach at the feeling of the metal band around his finger. He shook his head, as if trying to dislodge the thought by force. 

“Cameras only have a minute or two left,” Juno whispered. Nureyev laughed at a joke he hadn’t made. 

“Of course, darling. We have adventures to begin, and unfortunately,” Nureyev began, making a point to speak close enough that the microphone would pick up his words. “I am afraid this lovely evening is only the beginning of a much longer tale. Come along, now.” 

He offered Juno his arm and a blazing grin. Juno took both gladly. The hush of the room seemed to follow them as they made their exit, broken only by the clicking of heels on the tile floor of the banquet hall’s entrance. 

Juno’s knees seemed to protest against the general concept of standing, and at no fault of their own. Peter was looking at him like he’d hung the sun, his gaze soft and reverent and doing nothing to help Juno’s focus. It was a grin newscasters and movie stars would envy, and it was hellbent on persuading Juno to kiss it right off his face. 

Juno couldn’t find it in himself to be mad. Domesticity looked good on him.

The Ruby 7 was parked outside, glittering like a stolen jewel and poised to take off at a moment’s notice. Vespa waved them down with the hand not white knuckles around the wheel. In the flickering neon of the asteroid’s nightlife, Juno could just make out the shape of Buddy in the seat beside her, having slipped out the back while Hector Rey poured his heart out to his future bride and hundreds of onlookers. 

“Get in,” Vespa growled, already starting the car. She glanced away from the door of the venue only to check her watch. For once, Juno found no reason to argue. 

“You were perfect,” Nureyev murmured, grin continuing to melt Juno into his seat. Vespa made a gagging noise. Buddy tried to conceal a laugh. 

“You can drop the act, Nureyev,” Juno snorted, tugging his skirts inside the car while Peter stretched out beside him.

As the car started, Juno felt a passive hand brush against his thigh. He glanced up at Nureyev, eyebrow raised, but his look was only reciprocated with something both unbearably smug and utterly unreadable. 

“I’m being quite sincere, Juno,” Nureyev smiled, pointed teeth seeming to make their first appearance all evening. “You played quite the smitten bride-to-be.” 

“Buddy,” Vespa began. “Can you steer while I puke?” 

“I’m afraid not, darling. Pete, as lovely as your sentiments are, I would rather the pair of you be quite sincere at a later time and date,” Buddy returned. 

“A later time and date it is, then,” Nureyev chuckled. 

The Ruby 7 soon chirped to a halt within the hull of the Carte Blanche, the sound barely having echoed off the metal walls when Nureyev was at Juno’s side, offering him an arm like he was a lady in a period drama who needed help with his skirts. 

Maybe he did need a little help with his skirts, but that wasn’t the point. Juno took his arm. Nureyev beamed. Juno snorted. 

“Quite the gentleman, Rey.” 

“Not every heist can double as a romantic evening, Juno,” Nureyev said, beginning to walk Juno back to his quarters. “I intend to make the most of those which do.”

“Sure. Just most of them, then.” 

“Improvisation is often most convincing when you pull from real experience. Each alias need not be your entire self, but a piece of yourself in your alias makes for a more convincing character.” 

“Huh. Is that gonna be on the test?” 

Nureyev laughed, and the warmth in Juno’s chest that had been threatening to sabotage their heist all evening rose again. 

“You know you don’t have to help me walk whenever I’m in heels. I’m a grown lady, Nureyev,” he chuckled. 

“You say that like you mind.” 

“Touché.”

“Your quarters, darling,” Nureyev returned, the shadow of a laugh playing on his words. He gestured the arm not hooked around Juno’s to the obvious, using the same gesture to open the door. 

Juno dropped the arm, instead pulling Nureyev through the doorway by his tie and promptly shutting the door behind him. 

“God, get me out of this thing,” he half-wheezed, clamoring for the zipper until he felt the bodice loosen at Peter’s hand. “It’s always nice for the first few hours, huh?” 

“I don’t know, Juno. I enjoyed it the entire time.” 

“You didn’t have to wear it.” 

“Point taken, though I must say, I thought you rather enjoyed gowns. If I may pry, what makes this particular dress so different?” Nureyev asked, sitting on Juno’s bed as Juno rummaged through a drawer for anything more comfortable to wear. He settled for a t-shirt that was an atrocity disguised as tie-dye. Nureyev gave him a joking wince while Juno snorted. 

“It’s a weird fabric. Not exactly fun to sweat in.” 

Nureyev went quiet for a moment, brow knit in thought. After so long, Juno couldn’t help but think the sight should’ve left fewer butterflies in his stomach. 

“If I’m being entirely honest, I was a little nervous.” 

“Juno, we’ve been doing this for months now. Maybe we’re a little new to actually being the distraction, but—“ 

A shake of Juno’s head made his words fall away. The room was as close to silence as one could get on the Carte Blanche, just a soft humming that had begun to sound like home. 

It was broken by the creaking of the mattress as Juno sat down beside him, laying a hand atop Nureyev’s. 

“Do you want to talk about it?” 

“The proposal.” 

Nureyev looked taken aback. 

“Juno, we’ve played married before, even on our first proper heist,” he started. 

“Duke and Dahlia Rose. How could I ever forget?” Juno smiled. The tightness in Nureyev’s chest seemed to lessen. 

“So what happened this time?” 

Juno sighed. “It just felt more real, you know? And I was worried I’d mess it up or get too into it and say something stupid. And it doesn’t help that I’ve spent a lot of time recently thinking about—“

Juno’s final “about” slid from his lips as if escaping. Nureyev could guess from his facial expression that several words before it were also meant to have stayed in his head. 

“Thinking about what, Juno?” 

The flush in Juno’s face and the beginnings of several different stammered answers was all the confirmation he needed. The room returned to humming silence when Nureyev squeezed his hand. 

“I don’t want to give anything away,” he began. Juno was surprised his pulse wasn’t audible. “But I promise you, Hector Rey is far from the best I can do.”

“Oh.” 

There was a lot packed into that single syllable, one that Nureyev had found often carried a plethora of negative sentiments that couldn’t be better voiced by the best of poets. Juno’s “oh” carried a lot of things, but they didn’t sound particularly bad.

“Oh?”

“I guess we’re just going to have to do it twice, because Rita’s been helping me—“ 

“Shh, don’t ruin anything,” Nureyev grinned. Juno gave his hand a little squeeze. 

“So basically, this is a long way of saying I got too into it, stressed myself out, and...yeah.” 

“Well,” Nureyev started. “Whenever one of us has to propose for a future heist, I suppose you could treat it as practice. No strings attached. A happy ending no matter what.” 

“Like that’s supposed to make me any less nervous.” 

“I’m just saying it could help on the day you do…” he trailed off with a knowing smirk. “Whatever it is you and Rita might have been planning.” 

“Right.”

A comfortable quiet followed, the sounds of humming engines and rustling fabric and a head falling onto a nearby shoulder fluttering through the air like songbirds in a park. 

“Juno?” Nureyev finally said, voice becoming another soft and light and beautiful thing dancing through the darkened quarters. 

“Yeah, Nureyev?” 

“I meant all of it, you know.” 

“No you didn’t. You’d never say anything nearly that cheesy,” Juno returned.

Peter shook his head, stifling laughter. “I won’t give you the satisfaction of saying you’re right, but I will tell you any of my written plans are quite different.” 

Juno snorted. 

“I meant the sentiment, Juno. When I said improvising as an alias is most successful when you draw from a part of yourself, I meant it. Everything Hector Rey said, however—what was your word—cheesy, was entirely honest.”

The inches between them were becoming unbearable, so Juno closed them with his lips.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Notes have been funky lately, so this might mess things up, but thank you so much for reading! My tumblr is @hopeless-eccentric if anyone wants to give it a follow!! Please leave kudos or comments below and don't forget to stay awesome gamers


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Content warnings for a fake marital dispute referencing fake infidelity and a brief mention of a face slap (it doesn't happen)

“I wouldn’t go so far as to call this heist easy, but I would go far enough to say it will be straightforward. Rita will hack into the company’s account and drain their assets before the representative can close his deal. Juno, Pete, you will be nearby posing as patrons of the restaurant in case the deal starts to close too early,” Buddy explained, unfolding a map of the restaurant as she spoke. 

Nureyev had seen it a thousand times before, his own copy folded in a pocket and marked with a dozen lines and circles in the process of memorizing the angles of the security cameras. Only one circle adorned the page before him, and it surrounded what appeared to be a booth mere feet from a table marked with a resolute x. 

“To those of you on the ground, I want reports on the deal every few minutes. If things are progressing too fast, I want a diversion. Note that your aliases are already married, and therefore, another proposal is out of the question. Do I make myself clear?” Buddy continued pointedly. 

“Yes, Captain.”

“Yep.”

“It is critical the deal be ruined in person. There is only one thing more detrimental to a burgeoning debtors’ tag company than the loss of its finances, and that is the loss of its credibility. We intend to utterly drain both. If all goes wrong, which, I assure you, it will not, Vespa will be stationed in the kitchen with arsenic.”

The evening had gone largely according to plan, and Juno had managed to almost enjoy himself in the process. Buddy hadn’t been kidding when she called the place a haven for dirty business deals, but the quality of the food gave him half a mind to come back. 

The corner of the restaurant was particularly dark under the guise of a romantic candle-lit evening, though Juno doubted the two of them were the only people there who wanted their faces unseen. The waitstaff spoke in sentences short enough to write on one hand, making eye contact seldom enough that Juno wouldn’t have been surprised if the waitress hadn’t noticed his eyepatch. 

With their company yet to show up, Juno couldn’t help but wonder what kind of a couple chose a place like this for an anniversary dinner. 

“Penelope, darling, you’ve barely touched your drink,” Nureyev murmured. An ambiguous statement. Clearly, he was wondering the same thing. 

“Well, Charles,” Juno began, choking slightly on the unfamiliar name. “The idea of poison in the kitchen isn’t exactly doing wonders for my appetite.”

“She’s only doing dessert tonight. I doubt you need worry about coffee. Besides, it smells perfectly fine to me.”

“If her baking goes the way it has for the last week, I don’t think the target’s going to be the only one dying tonight.”

“Are you still upset at her for getting flour in your hair?” Nureyev teased. 

“So what if I am? That took ages to get out.”

“You snuck up behind her, darling. Just be glad she attacked you with the flour in her left hand instead of the knife in her right.”

“You don’t sound mad,” Juno said.

“I’m not. She gave me an excuse to help you wash it out.”

Juno snorted, his remark broken off by the sound of Buddy on his comms. 

“We have a visual on the representative entering the restaurant. It’s likely the supplier he’s meeting will follow shortly,” she explained. “Keep an ear out once they sit down.”

After succinct affirmations of understanding, the pair returned to a comfortable silence, eyes flitting between each other and the door. 

“So, Charles,” Juno finally began. “What are a fine couple like you and I doing in a place like this?”

Nureyev took his hand atop the table, thumb stroking over the same fake wedding band they always used. Juno couldn’t help but feel a warmth in his chest at the sight of it glittering on his fourth finger, which was beginning to feel underdressed between missions. 

“We’re having our anniversary dinner, since apparently, buying our crewmates time with a proposal was becoming too predictable,” Nureyev mused. “Unfortunately, it seems our practice will be designated to mirrors and long suffering secretaries.”

Juno’s laugh was stifled at the sight of the representative, a man in a pinstripe suit with a notable resemblance to a rodent. 

“So how many years is this now?” He smiled, mind only half trained on the impatient tapping of the representative’s foot on the sim stone flooring. 

“Penelope, my darling, I’m almost offended you don’t know yourself,” Nureyev chuckled. 

“You know damn well you don’t have it in you to be mad at me.”

“Perhaps, though I do expect my wife to know how long ago he married me,” he returned. Had Juno not been preoccupied with the supplier’s arrival, the sourness in Nureyev’s voice would have coaxed a laugh from his chest. 

“Perhaps,” Juno began once more, almost mocking the word. “I’m testing you to see if you know for yourself.”

The pair went quiet as the supplier began to speak, negotiating price and future shipments between long sips of wine. Juno justified his own silence with coffee, while Nureyev turned to his comms. 

“Our targets are discussing the semantics of the deal. It looks like we’re going to have to move a good bit faster than we anticipated,” Nureyev hissed, words hidden between sips of his own drink. 

“Rita, darling,” Buddy began. “How much time do you think you’ll require?”

Juno didn’t have to hear any of the words that followed the noise Rita made to know it wasn’t good news. His stomach dropped. The hand not absentmindedly linked with Nureyev’s tightened around his coffee mug. 

“How long of a distraction do you think we’ll need?” He asked. Nureyev laughed, as if his words had been a particularly funny joke. 

“Penelope, darling, you’re too much!”

“A minute or two, Mistah Steel, then we should be good,” Rita hissed. 

“Penelope?” Nureyev began, giving Juno’s hand a squeeze. “My love, whatever is the matter?”

Juno took a deep breath in, giving a rapid glance to the table beside them, already starting to close the deal. 

“Hit me,” he hissed. 

“My darling, I would never—”

“Or something. Something loud,” Juno continued, voice an angry whisper as if his words contained true malice.

“I knew it!” Nureyev cried, loud enough that a part of Juno twinged with worry. However, the same concern seemed to have gripped the supplier and representative both. “I wanted to believe you were better than this, Penelope...to cheat on me with my own brother?”

If not for the conviction in Nureyev’s face and Rita’s panicked yell at the discovery of another layer of coding, Juno would have laughed. 

“You have a lot of gall talking to me like that, Charles,” Juno spat, the word flying from his lips like a projectile. “I’ve seen how you look at your boss. Tell me, did you really deserve all three of those raises, or do you just promote that much team synergy?”

“You bastard.”

“You sound just like my mother.”

“I knew it. You married me just for my money, didn’t you?” Nureyev returned, harsh enough that the meaningless words nearly stung. Juno couldn’t complain though, as the immediate blast radius of the fight had gone completely silent. Most importantly, the table of their targets was included in this number. 

“You made me sign a prenup. I’m not even divorcing you for your money.”

“You—what?” 

The hurt in Nureyev’s voice made his chest burn in a way he hadn’t expected, and for the first mission in a very long time, Juno wished Nureyev wasn’t such a good actor. 

“You heard me.” Juno was surprised he still sounded angry. “You’ve got nerve acting remotely surprised after what you did to me. I would have left you years ago if not for the cat.”

“Don’t you dare bring Fluffy into this! God rest her soul,” Nureyev spat. 

“You’ve been sleeping with your boss for years, Charles!”

“You slept with my brother!”

“I was drunk. Besides, you’re twins, so it’s kind of hard to tell.”

Nureyev let out a scandalized gasp and threw his drink in Juno’s direction, meticulously missing just enough to splatter the briefcase the supplier was holding.

“Hey, have you considered maybe you should be mad at your brother for sleeping with me?”

Nureyev scoffed. “I’m dealing with you first.”

There was a pause, shivering with scandal and second hand embarrassment as the corner of the restaurant began to resume in its activities. 

“I just need another minute, keep going!” Rita roared, ferocious clicking of fingers on keyboard audible through their comms. 

“I meant it. About the divorce. If you’re going to go off and fuck your boss, I’m sure you’d be much happier doing it as an unmarried man,” Juno continued, words seeming to burn his lips as they fell from them. 

His heart managed to sink even lower as the briefcase was placed upon the table. Nureyev met his eye across the booth, then stood, nearly jostling Juno’s coffee out of his hand as he did so. 

“How dare you? I thought you’d at least stay for the baby.”

Juno was pretty sure he wasn’t acting when his coffee came out his nose. He coughed and managed to compose himself before returning fire. 

“Is it even mine?”

Nureyev bristled, clenching his fingers around his already empty glass. 

“Fuck you, Penelope,” he spat, reaching for his bag as if to leave. 

Juno stood, catching him by the sleeve. Nureyev threw his arm away. 

“Don’t you touch me! I swear, I could slap you right now.”

Juno snorted. “You wouldn’t.”

Nureyev straightened up, giving him a particularly cold glare. 

“You’re right, Penelope. I wouldn’t,” he began, mouth contorting into a sneer. “I don’t think I could reach.”

“You bastard! You’ve sunk to my level!”

“Done!” Rita announced over the comms. 

“Good work. Pete, Juno, get out of there before the more detrimental argument starts,” Buddy instructed. 

Juno didn’t have to be told twice, taking off towards the door and entirely abandoning the table. He didn’t notice the waitstaff he shoved aside in his march towards the exit, mind only on the rapid click of Nureyev’s steps behind him and a distant begging for forgiveness that barely registered over the faint static that seemed to have overtaken his brain. 

“Juno,” Nureyev panted upon catching up with him, far enough from their targets and close enough to the ship that he felt he could relax. “You were wonderful, back there. And to think you consider yourself a poor actor.”

“Thanks.”

Nureyev went quiet, and stayed that way as they made their way onto the ship. 

“I’m going to head back to my quarters and change, if you need me,” Juno finally said.

Their hands brushed as they turned to part ways. Nureyev reached to give Juno’s fingers a parting squeeze. Perhaps he missed. Perhaps the hand just slid away. But with air between his fingers and his eyes on Juno removing and pocketing the sim silver ring, Nureyev couldn’t help but stand and watch Juno disappear down the hallway.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Whew. Hate to leave you all hanging, but I promise to update tomorrow!! It's gonna be fine trust me. Anyway thanks for reading and make sure to smash that kudos button, leave a comment down below, and don't forget to stay awesome gamers
> 
> My tumblr is @hopeless-eccentric for anyone who wants to come scream at me for the shit I just pulled! Screaming at or with me is highly encouraged btw


	3. Chapter 3

Even without standing in Juno’s doorway looking like a kicked puppy, Nureyev was a sight for sore eyes. 

Despite being backlit by the hall, Juno could tell he was about as dressed down as he could be, clad in an old shirt that refused to fit right on any part of him. In the ringing silence between the two of them, Juno realized it was his. 

“If you’re coming in, I’m not stopping you,” Juno managed, glancing up from the spot on the wall he’d been staring at for far too long. 

“Juno,” Nureyev began, the sound of his name tugging unfairly at Juno’s heartstrings. “I think we ought to talk about the mission today.”

“Yeah. We oughta.”

Nureyev, sensing that Juno wasn’t moving anytime soon, took the opportunity to sit beside him on the bed, the shifting of the mattress grounding the both of them in reality. Their legs, often casually brushing in moments such as these, sat inches apart, a chasm feeling infinite in the darkened room. 

Unable to bear it much longer, Nureyev laid a skywards palm on Juno’s knee. He let out a shaky sigh as Juno’s fingers interlocked with his. Something cold hit his palm, trapped between their two hands. It didn’t take a detective to know exactly what the smooth circular object was. 

“I didn’t know our distraction would be so hurtful,” Nureyev began. He had spent his entire life good with words, yet suddenly, they felt like pulling a rotten tooth. It was a necessity to get them out, of course, and a simple action in theory, yet every single one seemed to give him a great jab of pain as they stumbled out. “I love you. That hasn’t changed.”

“I started it.”

“That’s no excuse.”

Juno nodded, starting to speak several times before giving up entirely. Peter stroked the back of his hand, praying the silence would shift to a comfortable one. 

“I just—” Juno finally began, waving away the thought with a shake of his head. “It’s stupid.”

“It’s not stupid. If something else is upsetting you, I intend to hear you out,” Nureyev pressed, his other hand reaching to Juno’s forehead, where a piece of hair lay out of place. “May I?”

Juno nodded in silence, eye shut as gentle fingers combed his hair from his face. He let out a quiet sigh that didn’t entirely comfort Nureyev. 

“I don’t know if I’m ready.”

Nureyev’s stomach dropped, his thoughts torn in two between the ring in their hands and the ring hidden away in his own dresser. 

“Juno, I apologize if I misinterpreted things, but I was under the impression you were planning a proposal yourself,” Nureyev began. He wasn’t sure he would be able to hear Juno’s response over the pounding of his heart in his ears, but Juno just shook his head. 

“I couldn’t be more ready if you married me right here and now,” he smiled, sad and soft and responsible for half the butterflies in Nureyev’s stomach. 

“So what’s bothering you?”

Juno sighed. 

“I don’t think I’m ready to be a parent.”

“What?”

Juno began to speak again, but was cut off by a laugh so hideous he doubted a noise like it would ever arise from Nureyev again. The part of him that wasn’t terrified swelled with adoration. 

“Juno, did you think—”

Face flushing, Juno did his best to backpedal. 

“No, I just—you said that with aliases, you should draw on some part of yourself, and you haven’t been drinking lately, so—”

“Juno, that was advice, not a rule. Besides,” Nureyev began, red with the effort of concealing laughter. “There’s no alcohol on the ship.”

“Right.”

The room was the closest to silence it had been all evening, as Nureyev bated his breath in the hopes of sparing both their neighbors’ ears and Juno’s last remaining shreds of dignity. Juno glanced over at him, ruddy faced and trying his damndest to swallow down a smile, and found it somewhat unbearable not to be laughing as well. 

“You look ridiculous,” Juno snorted. 

Nureyev let out a shaky breath, doing his best to compose himself. Even in an old borrowed shirt and with a total lack of makeup, the gold of artificial lamplight anointed his face in a manner that made composure all too within reach. 

“Is that all you had to get off your chest, then?” Nureyev asked. The trembling of his words betrayed his attempt at seriousness. 

“Not really. If I’m being honest, this type of distraction wasn’t my favorite,” Juno began. “I don’t like yelling at you like that. Even if it’s just for Charles and Penelope, or whoever we’re pretending to be this week.”

Nureyev smiled, closing the space between them to wrap an arm around Juno. The room itself seemed to let out a shaky breath as the whisper of ventilation became softer and the harsh humming of the engine became kinder. Juno leaned into the touch, head falling onto Nureyev’s shoulder. 

“If you’re not comfortable doing that kind of distraction,” Nureyev began. “I don’t see why we ever have to do something like it again.”

“I don’t want to completely rule something out, but maybe we should just, you know, talk about it first,” Juno continued. He felt Nureyev nod. 

“You know, Juno,” Nureyev began after a moment. Juno could hear the smile blooming in his voice. “Maybe this isn’t the end for Charles and Penelope.”

“Yeah?”

“Maybe they’ll go home tonight, talk things out, kiss, make up, remember why they married each other in the first place,” Nureyev mused. 

“You think they would?”

“I don’t know, Juno. It’s hard to predict things like that, but I don’t think all hope is lost just yet. Maybe, just maybe, Charles is sorry for sleeping with his boss for a promotion. Maybe it’ll never happen again,” Nureyev offered. 

“Yeah, and I’m sure Penelope is sorry he slept with the wrong twin.”

“I’m sure he will be if he apologizes like that,” Nureyev returned. Juno snorted. 

“Okay then, well maybe, if that kid really is Penelope’s, they’ll manage to make it work.”

“Of course it isn’t Penelope’s. Charles is an utter cad, Juno, and from the way those two were talking to one another, I would bet my life’s savings they haven’t had sex in over a year,” Nureyev joked. 

“Way to ruin the mood,” Juno teased. 

“Laughing at misfortune is so much easier when fate has been kind to you as of late,” Peter mused, sliding his hand away from Juno’s just long enough to return the fake ring to his partner’s finger. “I want to be married to you, Juno, and I have every intention of staying that way.”

“I’ve been thinking about that for a while now. We can’t really get divorced if we’re not officially married in the first place, so you really don’t have anything to worry about,” Juno offered. 

“Oh, dream a little, Juno. Say you’ll never leave me because of love, not semantics.”

“Never heard of her.”

Nureyev rolled his eyes affectionately, thumb running over Juno’s ring as he spoke once more. 

“I’d marry you right here, if I could.”

“Then do it.”

Nureyev raised an eyebrow. 

“You said it yourself,” Juno began, raising his head to look up at Nureyev properly. A soft grin all too reminiscent of Hector Rey overtook his face and sent Juno’s stomach spiraling. “You don’t care about laws or semantics. So if that’s the case, marry me right here.”

“Juno, darling, I haven’t even proposed yet,” Nureyev chuckled, though he had inadvertently begun to squeeze Juno’s hand. 

“Semantics later. Rita’s never gonna forgive me if she’s not my maid of honor. Besides, nobody has to know. Maybe Charles and Penelope are just renewing their vows. Hell, maybe this is just practice for our next mission,” Juno grinned. 

“You’ve always been impossible to argue with.”

“So is that a yes?” 

“Is that a proposal?” 

“Depends. Are you going to marry me right here and now or not?” 

Juno could feel Nureyev smiling when their lips connected, as soft and sweet as the touch of their intertwined hands. 

“I do,” Nureyev breathed.

“You’re not supposed to kiss me until after you say that,” Juno teased. Peter took this as an excuse to kiss him again. 

“I think I’m in love with you,” Juno chuckled, free hand coming to rest on Nureyev’s face. 

“You think? I should hope you would be a little more certain in your affections by now.”

“I know I’m in love with you.”

Nureyev grinned. “Much better. You forgot something else.”

Juno brought Nureyev’s hand to his lips, his soft eye trained on Peter’s face throughout the entire moment. He couldn't help but feel his heart flutter like a teenager with a crush, seeing a beautiful person across from themselves on public transport or brushing the hand of an attractive classmate when passing back a borrowed pen. 

He looked away to reach into his own pocket, rummaging around for a moment before Nureyev heard the resolute snap of a jewelry box. Juno produced a ring, and with one hand still holding Peter’s, slipped an intricately engraved band of gold onto his finger. 

Their lips were already halfway together when Juno murmured “I do.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you all so much for reading!! Hope you had as much fun reading this fic as I had writing it. Make sure to smash that kudos button, leave a comment below, and remember to stay awesome gamers! My tumblr is @hopeless-eccentric for all of you interested in seeing my other bullshit or reaching out to me to cry together about penumbra

**Author's Note:**

> Whew. Hate to leave you hanging there, but I promise it will all be alright, and I'll be updating tomorrow!! Thanks for reading and remember to smash that kudos button and leave a comment down below! Stay awesome gamers


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